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How To Catch a Falling Bug

TYKE

In no way, shape, or form do I want to set foot inside thismagic-winginstitution, but here I am.

Again.

Fay, why, of all the places...

This dove. She gets me jumping into my old Cadillac at one in the morning, hitting the gas like a maniac.

And now, what am I to do? Barge in and say, 'Hi?'

What she saw was what she got, and she didn't want it. Neither between her legs nor beside her. She made it quite clear.

I'm not wanted.

Yet, I'm here, about to beg for her, like probably all those other sods before me. Hearsay at first, I can now confirm it. Fay ropes anyone's heart with a single gaze, damning her catch at first sight.

Thought I'd be discarded after our first night...Yet, I found myself lucky. Fay hung around.

And that thought alone sends my lips in a quirk. Who wouldn't have wanted the feeling of being chosen, liked, and cared for? Not me. Must have not been my best move. Shouldn't have fed into it...

Turned out impossible to control.

She'd been hanging out on weekends, spending our time indoors, mostly at my place. Then came her late-night texts and her odd questions, but I always knew what she meant. "Is it better to keep things secret if what you have is precious? Will it end up destroyed if it came to be revealed?" At one point, I thought she would go all in for me; she began holding my hand in public, once grazed her lips on my cheek at a movie. Of course, I had to fuck it up when Fay got struck across the face, and my fist became a vessel of rage. I was at a thread from being sent to the Gurnam Swamps; instead, the unexpected happened–someone from the police station stepped in my case and I only ended up suspended for a month. Never found out who it was, though.

That one-time incident led to the following 'no ties' rules, Fay, making sure to dot all the 'I's' and crossing the 'T's.' It got weird between us, stricter, colder. Still, the late-night texts remained. "If someone would be rejected by society because of their choices, does that mean the choices are wrong?" That one still lingers in me. What did she mean by that? Me? Her libertine lifestyle?

And hell, of course, the latter fucking bothered me. But that didn't last. The stakes were too high to complain––I didn't want to lose her. Either way, I realized, there weren't as many whorehounds as I thought. Because out of her so-called one-nighters, I know there is only one she kept seeing regularly aside me. And I just found out his name recently...

But Mog Kera'ish Kitot, none of that matters right now. Even as I look at her floating above me, I only see a bright spot in my night, the shiniest, the color of her eyes echoing in my being like moonlight. And that will never change.

Would these lights begin to flicker and her tears start to fall, she'll never be able to hide them from me. She tries to, but she's terrible at masking things. This fairy thinks she's an A-class actress. When, in truth, her performance doesn't make the cut. She often acts as if all is fine, but I know better. For some reason, she feels stranded on an island called guilt. I'll never forget her answer when I once asked her why she kept hanging out with me. "I'd rather be with you than be a loser." Sweet daemon.

I don't know why she puts on this front, the smiling fairy act, because all I've ever seen was the real her. A pure heart, standing her ground... The only one who's ever offered me affection without a second thought. And sometimes, I can tell it weighs on her, this orc/fae thing. I've tried to make her talk, but she shuts down as soon as I tickle the subject. And I'm just tired of watching her pretend like everything's under control when it's not. It's as if, with a smile, she's desperately trying to put out a fire while I'm stuck inside the damn house.

Well, she must've grown tired because she finally kicked me out of it...

Shoving my hands into my jacket's pockets, I glance up at the black sky, thick raindrops dripping on my cheeks.I'm a damn pipe-dreamer, that's what.

As I gaze down, my attention is drawn to the entrance. A group of fairies are interacting with security personnel. Seems negotiation is afoot, and rich wallets are being dug out. This could be considered corruption by some, but I call that extortion. No one in their right mind should want to pay to get into this shithole.

It looks like things have improved in the line. I can now see a wart on the bouncer's chin. "Too young, try tomorrow," the lunk sneers.

What if she's with one of her one-nighters?

Don't go looking for beef, Tyke. Just don't. Put her in the backseat and leave.

I swallow, already feeling mopped.

My mind is trying to dissociate itself from my trapped body, imagining queuing for some Gher'El beer, like in the old days. The mead came from the only tavern in our village, but boy, it was the best in all Orkan'aish land.

And now, look at me,halflingish, armor locked inFeagovernment storage, along with my hammer and axe, trapped in some fucked-up line, waiting to enter The Restless, formerly calledHell!

Those trolls up front... If my brother were still alive, their fat would have already been maced and rearranged on the concrete with various slices of guts, Kor' Kron style!

I used to have a tribe behind me. If I fell, my people had me. Nowadays, everyone's left to fend for themselves.

I've got to keep humility and keep marching, regardless of the clothes I wear or where I am. I am still Kor' Kron, and I always will be. What I also know is that trolls will always be traitors.

Normal circumstances would have resulted in some head poking from the ground after I smashed it deep.

But a nagging thought is killing my creativity. Any faux pas will result in having my badge stripped, then be sent to the Gurnham Swamps. And I don't want that.

So I'm just staying in my line, trying to keep my shit together.

A brawl sparks behind me. Shut your eyes and breathe, Tyke.

"V! You're back in town. Glad to see you. I'll get a hostess to escort you to your table," my wet ears catch.

Regulars...

"It is unnecessary. Besides, I have someone waiting for me inside, and I am running late."

"Gotta stick that, lick that!" the bovine troll gurgles.

Finally, this wealthy skeleton prances away, leaving me to drag my foot toward the bouncers.

I guess it's my turn to getchecked out, my worth reduced to the squiggle of a cord or a nod of rejection.

I got the shoes Fay gave me, a pair of jeans, and my leather biker coat. There's even gel running through my hair.

Here's hoping this troll likes my 'do' because he's studying me from head to toe. Fuck, I hate this.

It's one of those stares that last ten seconds, silently insulting you.

I know what he's thinking.

I'm well aware I'm not the flavor of the month—or in this case, species.

Crossing his arms, he leans forth, not forgetting to look up because this is where I'm at, and says, "Not tonight."

"Tonight," insists my grate, tusks rubbing slowly against my lips.

"Sorry. Orcs are limited to one at a time to avoid any kind of friction, and one already came in with a nymph."

Keep the growl away from the vowels, Tyke.

"Let me in." Damn right, I growl!

"Easy, orc. We're on the same side." He's focused on my tight fist, his colleague joining our one-to-one, frowning at my impatient gaze.

"On the same side?! If I recall, you were quick to turn your coats when things got too hot."

Leave the gun alone, idiot. What's wrong with me?

I'm trying not to blow his fucking face off, my fingers tingling on the pistol buried in my pocket.

I never go that far.

Never.

I am not a fan of tasting this limit. But trolls... No one showed up when they were expectedback then.

"What's the issue?" this new joiner says.

"Orc."

"Oh, buddy. Rules of the house. You know how it is."

Buddy?

"I've come to pick someone up, and then I'm out." My finger loosens around the gun's trigger. It's hard to control my tongue, though. It's banging against my tusk, trying to whirl words that could ignite a fight.

"Can't do that."

This small troll is getting on my nerves, so I swirl my eyes toward the bigger lad. But this one says, "Yeah, we can't. Why don't you call your chick?" As it goes, they'll be two bodies in the hearse tonight.

"Let. Me. In."

There's a fat swampy hand landing on my jacket. And that's when rage begins to flame-torch my insides. But this limb doesn't stop there; it presses harder against my chest.

My... Damn troll!I grab the closest by the neck because I've been waiting for an hour in this line full of dwarfs, and I'm fed up to the back teeth.

"Hey! Hey!" With blood-red lips, this preened chap, apparently calledV, reverts on his tracks and says, "Let him in. He's..." a black hood covers his face, and while the guy pauses, only the shadow of a smile can be seen stretching across his alabaster skin, "my guest."

That voice...

Yeah.

Shit.

I recognize that sharp snarl.

Vym.

Vym Lichten von Crimsonian.

The day was shaky for me, and it seems to be getting worse. Me, thinking luck had shown its face, but why did I think that?

Everything is going in line with my expectations. Indeed, the farce that is my life goes on.

"You know this guy?" Troll number two asks.

"He's trying to help mycase, aren't you, Officer Tyke?"

Don't answer. Just try unflattening your lips. The problem is, I can't. Like this vampire, my smile is dead, and I can't bring it back.

"I guess that makes us friends now." This scum winks at me like we're besties before disappearing into the club. Friends... not even by a long shot.

Three weeks ago, at four a.m., Deon and I were in the interrogation room, exchanging uneasy glances. Guess whose cold ass was sitting on the chair. Vym's. "I loved her. She was my moon, a force greater than the tide." The snark in his voice made my fist hit the table. Little shit.

Prior to that, an emergency call had made my phone buzz, kicking me out of my already shattered sleep. A fairy had been found unresponsive at the foot of his building; apparently, she had fallen from the roof...

The roast hadn't even begun when our chief broke into the room, barking, "Let him go." Apparently, his daddy had pulled a few strings. The guy's untouchable...

Before I can shelter my own head, one of the bouncers calls me, "Sir?"

From buddy to sir, I see... Looks like I just gained value, thanks to the bloodsucker. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were an officer."

"You're good."

"I hope your friend won't be too upset. Can you talk to him? I don't want to lose my job."

I look at this big lad while I catch his workmates in the corner of my eye, trying to focus on their body checks and other degrading physiognomy examinations. But I know they're just as uncomfortable.

"He's asuspect, not a friend. And you don't owe anything to anyone."

"He owns the club, sir."

My lungs squeeze and exhaust into a severe case of apnea.

It turns out Vym wasn't completely honest during his interrogation, starting with the mentioning of his assets...

I'll deal with that tomorrow.

I want to say something likeforget about it, but all that comes out is a muted grunt.

As I pass the cloakroom, I stride down a red-light corridor lined with mirrors and giant lip statues.

There is only one good thing about this place, and that's the beat. It takes me back home to those famous war drums we used to hammer for the victorious.

I halt when I arrive at the main stage.

Too many small people, high on whatever, waving their arms in the air. I would understand if it were a warlord or a chieftain, but no, it's a guy wearing an Easter Bunny helmet, scratching records like he's going through a hypomania episode.

Society is beyond fucked.

So, here I am, a shoulder resting at the end of this corridor, a hand squeezed in my jeans pocket for a cigarette pack, watching possessed bodies, poisoned with pills and other stuff I don't want to know about.

Yet, I get a sense of my own hypocrisy as I wedge a cigarette between my lips and flick a lighter at it.

Yeah, I miserably gave in to my old habits.

Two days ago, in fact.

Fay.

I'm not blaming her; I don't need to make others pay for my weakness. It's me, and I'm not handling things right. Yesterday, I rammed my car into a wall while parking. And this good fortune followed me when I tried to open my apartment door, the handle snapping off when I grabbed it.

And then I lit one up because at one point, you have to sayfuck it,or you pop.

I turn my gaze to the right, not looking at the bar a few feet from me, but at Vym, who is on the other side of it. Elbows on the counter, he stands facing the dance floor, a sly smirk spread across his face. His expression is so slick, so full of shit, it's rippable...

Keeping a constant eye on him, I take a drag. The guy's got more than just tricks up his sleeve... I saw straight through him that day. His first move was street talk, hoping we would fall for his Blood Wringer gang lingo. However, when it was apparent that it wasn't working, he switched to something else entirely. Precious, purple prose... The guy turned into a book, like the kind Fay reads. Theatric-style performance with a little snarky smile.

Vym's not fooling anyone. His teeth match the bite marks of one of the victims, but she didn't die from blood draining. And this fucker said he dated her.

Well, look at him. Mourning over his girlfriend, eyeing...

My gaze follows his.

Fay!?

I push myself off this clingy, sticky wall and flick my cig to the side.

My eyes swivel toward Vym, whose eyes begin to glow with urgency... staring at my girl. Fucker. The bloodsucker just earned himself a spot on my hit list—at the very top.

Then, as if to complete this messed-up chain of events, some whispery chit-chat behind me stiffens my ears.

"Look... it's her."

"Yes, it is."

And then my brain smoke-dries when I hear, "She's gonna make things lit. She's climbing on the table."

I twist my head toward the VIP section, a blood-red, glitter-covered esplanade, giant lollipops between tables, throbbing blue and pink neon lights crowning the stage's center, feeling my face fall.

Sha'tar ...

There is a sense of light permeating my being. In this blond hair, wildflowers are dangling—forget-me-nots, she said they were called; Daer Gurl orflowing wondersin my language.

She knows how much I love them.

But only on her.

Something isn't quite right. I can see it in Fay's gaze, how she closes her eyelids slowly, unrushed, her cheeks shimmering, but not in the way I want.

She's crying.

"Queen Fay in the house!" the DJ shouts.

The fuck he didn't!

This dumb rabbit flings her the mic, and Fay catches it skillfully before she flies near the odd heart-shaped mirror ball.

Fay...

She raises her glass to the table she was standing on a moment ago. From the looks of this other fairy wiggling in someone's arms, cursing into the ether, something didn't go quite right.

What the hell is going on?

I knew I shouldn't have pressedsend. I should have left Donna's text alone. Because each time my eyes land on Fay, it's a heart attack.

And now shit's about to turn south, I can feel it in the air.

I stagger when her voice booms. "This toast, it goes like that!"

Fay clears her throat, as if she were addressing some judges for an honorable mention, and my smile rises back from the dead.There's just something about her antics that makes me want to...I exhale, my thoughts exhausting me.

"I was six years old when I had my first wing flutter. My feet rose from the edge of the window, and as I stepped into the void, the first winds of freedom blew through me." Her glare slowly sweeps over the faces below, an icy rictus posing at her lips. "I thought I could do anything."

Her wings begin to glow white as pixie dust spreads across the crowd, whose cheers are fueled by the effect it produces. A love chemical, I was told.

Maybe I'm drugged on Fay, and honestly, I'm okay with that.

"I could feel the breath of it carry me. I swear, I flew so high. That was the best day of my life—the taste of the sea, the hot undercurrents of the city, the humming sound of rush under my wings as I glided over New Orc."

"New Orc..." she repeats with a snigger. "I soon hit the crowd. School. Fairies. I wanted to fit right in like I belonged. Like I needed to... And so, I landed, folded my wings at my back, and played the fucking game to get in line." Her chest heaves as she marks a pause. There's a slight head tilt, prompting an aggressive smile out of her. "Well, eventually, I lost something important: me. But then..." Fay turns static, her gaze falling as the only motion in this room seems to be coming from her wings, and the club holds still. "... he found me back."

Her voice suddenly booms and I jolt a little. "Well, New-Orc, what did you do when you realized this!? You clipped my wings and began pulling my fucking strings! I want to have what you won't give me. It's not expensive, it's precious, and you won't fucking give it!"

Fay? Where are you going with this?

"Now, here's to the fakers; well done, you win! For you, Riks, wearing your stupid shades in the dark for the shady fuck you are!"

Alcohol spills from her glass, and a voice shouts, "I think you need to slow down, Fay!"

Fay points at this little mosquito man-boy from last time. Riks. I could've murdered the insect, but Fay squeezed my hand, and he got to live. "Going twenty-four, Diks, I can handle myself so chill out and sit the fuck down!"

She revolves around herself and faces Easter bun-bun. "Oh! Also, kudos to the DJ. Your music sucks!"

She gulps her glass and then raises it. I'm unsure if that's the correct order, but if it can help the lass express herself... "To the orc haters, may you rot in hell." She throws the glass tube to the ceiling, which shatters. As whining people duck under a hail of shards, she pursues her majestic eloquence. "I don't need your fucking validation!"

Bug...

Some gorilla bouncers are coming from the far end, and before them, my girl's wings beat wildly.

"I guess I just miss my ex," Fay whispers. "Because newsflash, bitches, he's an orc!"

In one go, this fairy swelled my heart and crushed it.Ex? I suck in a deep breath. There's a beat of silence, but it rings in my mind. I won't let Fay call me an 'ex' again. It's still up to her. Her presence in such a place made me initially think she'd turned the page on us, but what I'm seeing is different. It's a painful outburst. If we've got a fighting chance to be together, then this is it.

Boo...

My gut lurches. Being witness to this orc-shaming makes me want to smash these damn hellions' heads, grab her, and sling her over my back to the Cadillac.

I sprint into the crowd. Fay's fluttering above me, her ankles swirling about my head. Vym is about to snatch her bloody foot, but I'm faster.

And taller.

I'm like Cerberios trying to catch a frisbee, all eyes on the target, my raised arm dancing with an ankle, ready to cushion her.

"May you all choke on your drink now that you sold your soul to the system, bunch of specists!"

To these words, her wings quiver, and...

Shit!

"I got you, Fay."

She lands right where she should, her body against mine. I thought I'd never feel it again.

A bouncer grips my forearm. He's the angry kind. "Take her out, or I will!" he barks.

All I want is to preserve her reputation, or what's left of it. I can't help but feel guilty about this. With a fairy in one arm, I draw my badge once again for her, and groan, "She's undercover. These premises are suspected of having Glow." That's a lie, but I might be hinting at something with how the bouncer leaps back.

"Okay, bro, no fuss. I get it. Just... leave, please," he stutters.

There is a ring of people opening for me. The music has stopped, and indeed, the show is over.

As I break through this sea of people, with a now-passed-out Fay tucked into my arms, I feel Vym's heavy stare on my back. And I'm about right because, as I glance behind my shoulder, it's what I see. It's vile, and it's a feeling I'm going to cling to from now on.

Over Fay's lips, fragility glistens as she says my name. "Tyke... I'm tired."

"I know, bug."

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